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Discussion Starter · #1 ·
Being 11 years old and just about dying when my 12 year old brother got to go.
My two piece red & plaid Woolrich outfit.
Green rubber high top boots that my feet froze in.
Having my new knife strapped to my side as soon as I got to the mountains.
"Oiling" your gun before opening day.
Wellsboro being filled up with hunters.
Having to wait for the phone lines to open up to call home.
How cold it was in Doe Season.
How warm I got when deer appeared.
How good coffee out of a thermos could be.
Loving every bit of the "ride up".
Being on stand with my Grandpop when he shot a buck at 85 years old.
Missing him and my younger brother, even more when the leaves begin to change.
I remember...
 

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i remember my first hunt, the deer up on that ridge snorting at us, not being able to see them, dad could though. i remember being afraid to shoot my first rifle and dad coaxing me on, in the rain. i remember my first buck with dad by my side. i remember dad and i going fishing on his birthday. fishing was his favorite thing to do. his birthday would have been this friday. ohh, how i remember..............
 

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I have many cherished memories of Dad & Pappy and hunting and fishing. The one that I remember the most was standing at the site of my first deer and dad taking out his knife and saying "I'm only gonna show you this once!" I think if it every time I take out my knife to clean out a deer.
 

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I remember the night before opening day being just like christmas eve staying awake all night full of excitement just waiting for that alarm to go off and running in to wake up my Dad. Even though my Dad's to crippled to hunt anymore with bad knees I m still all excited and barely sleep the night before the opener 18 yrs later looking forward to the day my kids come running into wake me up.
 

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Good memories Old Mountain....so many i can relate too.

Our family hunting traditions took two big hits in the early 2000's, one we knocked down our old camp to build a brand new one, and two the new regs changed the way we hunted up there (from drivers to stillhunters).

The new regs we learned to live with and even like, but that old camp I miss. It housed memories. Maybe the new one will get there someday too....and all will be right once again, but I am struggling to dig those memories up without posts like this, so it is greatly appreciated.

I remember waiting in line for the pay phone....and I remember the first time I got a buck up there, a 9" inch spike, and I made darn sure to tell my Mom on the other end of the phone line VERY LOUDLY about it...LOL, so all the guys in line could hear the story. Remember one guy, a complete stranger, patting me on the back and saying "nice going kid" , as I went back over to the warmth of the truck....what happened to those guys? Come to think of it, I looked forward to being one, oh how times are changing.

GOOD POST
 

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This is a great post!!

RB, The phone lines up north are still there but only in bear season it seems. Usually after hunting the 1st day of bear season I'm standing in line using the pay phone at Bush Dam. I have a short drive to my office near Murrysville and this past week I have notice the deer are really moving. Also the roadkills are starting to show up on RT 22. Can't wait to get a chance to head up north to take in the fresh air and create more memories.
 

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great post I can remember my first hunt with my dad my first deer and all the first day eves and could not sleep man nowadays seems like the kids would rather stay in the house a play video games I am glad my 6 year old boy loves to hunt with me I love the old memories thanks
 

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blueknob, sounds like we got alot in common. I use to live in Monroeville and my father spent his whole career working in Murrysville. I remember how much he smiled when we headed out 22 to Potter camp for the weekend and just passed by his work...now that I am an office desk jockey I understand that smile completely.

Our "phone line" is now the overlook at Pine Mountain on Rt 44 above Oleana about 5 trucks pulled off with guys wandering around them trying to keep cell service going...not the same feel. ALthough seems like everyone is shouting into there phones now. If I guy gets a strong signal a group kind of forms.

GOOD LUCK guys...hold on to what you can, and embrace the new the best you can. All we can do.
 

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Wonderful posts and memories, gentlemen! Thanks for sharing.


I remember a single barrel, 16 gauge with two wood screws and some sort of tape around the pistol grip, and how it kicked the snot out of me at 9 years old and tumbled me off a decaying chestnut log in Hickory Bear Pen as I attempted to harvest a chipmunk!

I remember Dad laughing about it as I struggled to appear tough with tears streaming down my cheeks. I don't remember if we ever checked on the chipmunk, however.

I remember Dad's brown felt hat, and how I wanted one just like it when I became a real squirrel hunter, and I wanted it to smell just like his. I remember his faded, canvas hunting coat with its blood-stained game pouch, and the red bandanna Mom had spread into a square and sewn to the back.

I remember the wonderful aroma of spent shotgun shells, the old paper ones, and an October-chilled russet apple or two from the long-ignored apple trees on Sonny Howdershelt's grown-over farm above Manheim and the Cheat River.

Cancer took Dad before we could spend many outings in the squirrel woods together, the single barrel shotgun wasn't fancy enough for either my brother or myself, and disappeared somewhere along the line, unfortunately. I have a felt hat I wear after Christmas when carrying the flintlock, but I can't seem to get it to smell quite the same.

Memories are precious things, gentlemen. Never let them fade. Pull them back every once in a while, shake off the dust of time, and enjoy their re-newed warmth and resulting tears.
 

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Blueknob
...lots of us have that common heritage , and it about darn time we start focusing on where we all got atarted a little more and quit arguing about the nuts and bolts of hunting a little less.

I need to spend more time in this forum.
 

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This post is why I'm proud to have grown up hunting in Pa. Since I moved to NJ, and I don't get home as often to hunt as I wish I could, I feel like the good parts of hunting slip a little more each time. Its hard to explain to all of the non-hunters in my life why I love hunting so much, its not the game you bring home as much as it is the memories. Last year I inherited my grandfather's .32 Win Special that he bout when he got out of the Navy after WWII, he suggested I refinish it and put a scope on it. I explalined to him that all of the memories it held in its worn blueing and scratches were the biggest reason why that gun will never be changed from how he gave it to me. I miss hunting with him.
 

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Well Stated Mossberg,

We have a .32 marlin that has been past down from my Grandfather, my father, myself, and now my son,who just turn 13 yr old shot his 1st buck last year with it. Every time I pick up that gun I think of my grandfather(he died when my father was young), so this is the only thing I have that makes me feel like I have met my Grandfather.I know one day I will but Boy can that gun shoot great!!
 

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So many memories, I remember my old Swiss grandfather calling squirrels for me and saying"If you miss one more I am not going to call for you" I remember my first squirrel sitting with my dad and my new Savage 410/22 over and under and my first rabbit with him and my first buck near the old airport up near Elmelton Pa., the hunts with all my family and friends. Time passes so quickly but I can remember all in my minds eye. I especially remember a hunt near Moraine with my Dad and brothers with about a foot of snow, I saw a buck comming toward us and showed Dad but he could not put horns on it (four pt I think) he would not take the shot and I would not shoot because I wanted him to have the deer.
The critter ran past my BIL and he missed. Sorry just got carried away after reading the great posts prior, strange what the outdoors does to us. Now I have my gradson and my sons that I have many great memories, ...there are those who can live without wild things and those who cannot..I cannot.
 

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Discussion Starter · #19 ·
Great posts, guys.
We just had our first grandson in June, and it got me to thinking about when I could start taking him up to our beloved mountains, and making new memories, God willing.
Thinking about that brought back some memories of my own, and reading your posts brought back some more.
Like our beagles, and their distinctive howls and screams, pheasant and rabbit hunting near Robesonia, Pa, and waiting for 9:00 AM exactly, for the season to start (and the line of hunters stretched along the entire road waiting too).
Watching deer go by on the cars and trucks of successful hunters, from a seat in the Wellsboro diner. My own son's first deer, a doe, and the picture of him with my dad. The monster 8 pt he got two years ago when he was home from his 5th tour in OIF and OEF. The true sound of silence when a wet snow falls in Tioga County. Geez...no wonder we fell in love with this. Thanks for sharing.
 

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The treks to camp on Thanksgiving morning.
Hunting grouse & rabbits the last 3 days,before buck season.
Everyone sighting in their rifles,making sure their ON.
All the lever actions,Sav.99's Win.88's & 94's and Marlin 336's.And the short rounds that went with them..30-30..300 sav.,.308,358.,.35.
The comraderie that went on at camp.
The commotion that went on that first morning,the laughter & noise,then all of a sudden the silece as everyoneheaded to their stands.
That deer camp is a very unique experience.
 
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